(Discontinued) Blood Stained Hands
by rapturemelancholia
Summary: Roslyn used to be a contract killer, now after 5 years an old friend shows up. Will she fall back into the dark world she wanted to escape, or will she forge her own future with her new lover?
1. Chapter 1

I had been standing by the kitchen counter when the first puppy had started growling. Considering they were merely small pups and got scared easily, I didn't think much about it at the moment. However, when all five puppies joined in and howled in unison, I became paranoid and went into my bedroom to fetch my Beretta. I tucked it into my pants and sighed, a bit relieved.

After searching the house and finding nothing out of the ordinary, I gave the dogs their afternoon meal. I pet their small heads as they munched away. Why I had adopted 6 Huskies, I couldn't understand. They were beautiful, though. Five puppies and their mother. It was the closest to a family I've had for a long time.

I stood frozen in my spot as I felt the cold barrel of a gun push up against the crook of my neck. After all these years of being a hitman, I had stupidly let my guard down. A second is all it takes for you to die. In the back of my mind, I knew very well that I had a prize on my head, but I had brushed it off, thinking no one would bother to find me. It seemed I was wrong. "Go ahead, kill me. Isn't that what you are here for?" I bared my teeth and snarled like a dog, my nose scrunching up in anger.

The intruder grabbed my shoulder and spun me around so that we were face to face. Piercing blue eyes stared back at me. Blue eyes that I recognized in an instant.

Eyes widening like plates, I stuttered quietly, "Joseph? W-What the hell are you doing here?" Either he was here to kill me or this was going to be an incredibly awkward reunion after 4 years.

With a light chuckle, he holstered his gun and pulled off a bandana that covered his face. On the right side of his jaw, he had a bloodstained bandage that covered a large proportion of his jaw. I bit my lip, having a few guesses on what had happened to him. He winced as he pulled it off, revealing the gaping wound right beside his mouth.

Covering my mouth with my hand I whispered, "Oh my god... Who the fuck did this to you? And why in the fuck's name haven't you got it stitched up yet?" The man before me was not the same man who had been my partner all those years ago, but someone who had been broken. He looked ashamed, his eyes glued to the floor. "Do you know who did it?" I asked quietly, picking up one of the whining puppies. It was completely black with ice blue eyes. It barked happily, its tongue hanging out its mouth.

Joseph shook his head. He didn't say a single word, which was understandable considering the damage done to his jaw. I remember he used to have endless conversations in Italian, none of which I understood. He was so happy when he spoke in his own language and laughed when I had raised a questioning brow at his rambling.

I handed him one of the puppies with a smile and said, "Well, I'm sure they won't live too long."

He held the puppy at arm's length, a puzzled expression pasted on his face. He raised a brow at me, a small smirk forming on his lips.

"You can stay here tonight if you want. I'll call some of my contacts and ask around on what they know about this. No names mentioned." I gave him a weak smile, pointing to one of the rooms, "That's the spare room. You can lock the door if you want."

Joseph put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a small hug, silently thanking me for the hospitality


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

Taking care of the puppies wasn't as hard as Roslyn originally had thought. You only had to walk them, feed them and cuddle them. The problem was taking them out for walks every day. Routines were dangerous for her as it made her an easy target for her enemies if they knew her schedule. Having leashes around both of her hands, she didn't have time to pull out her gun as a hand covered her mouth. The person held a syringe and stuck the needle into one of her veins and released the substance into her bloodstream. Her body slumped and she stopped fighting against the grip of her attacker after a few seconds.

Roslyn groaned and coughed as her eyes fluttered open. Her hands had been bound and she immediately began pulling at her restraints. The material created friction against the skin on her wrists, burning them and causing them to sting. They had seated her in a chair, which they had bolted to the floor.

Roslyn heard a door open behind her. Two men entered and stood to face the woman. She gave them a wide, sinister grin and purred, "Do you really think this is a good idea, Thiago?" She was taunting him, testing his patience.

Thiago was a tall, Spanish man in his late thirties with a clean-shaven face and a crooked nose. He did not exactly reek of authority. Growling, he grabbed Roslyn's throat tight and squeezed. "I am going to have so much _fun_ with you, you little whore." He grinned like a madman, pulling out a pocket knife from his jacket. Holding it just inches away from her eye, he said in a maniac, sing-song voice, "An eye?" he ran the knife along her cheek, slicing it, and moved to her shoulder, "Or maybe your whole arm now that we're at it?" In a split second, he stabbed the knife into her shoulder, twisting it twice.

She let out a cry of pain, gritting her teeth. "People are looking for me, asshole. You'll never walk out of this place alive." She snarled and spit in his face. Roslyn resented this man. He was a coward and a backstabber.

Thiago growled, turning the knife that was still in her shoulder."I've got tons of men outside. No one will make it in." He grabbed her right hand, taking hold of her index finger, twisting it backward. She cried out in pain, slugging forward in the chair. "You're one dead fucking bitch."  
Her eyelids started dropping, her face white of exhaustion. He lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke into her face as he breathed out, "You comfortable? I hope not - because this will go on for so long." He drew out on the words, creeping closer to her face. He took one more draw of the cigarette, pushing the glowing butt down onto the top of her hand, smirking as she tried to jerk her hand away from the heat.

Roslyn laughed painfully, "I will have so much fun strangling you." She was wheezing and it was hard to breathe.

"Good luck with that," Thiago taunted, giving her hurt shoulder a rough pat. Roslyn flinched, turning her head to the side to not meet his gaze.

Thiago walked out of the room, locking the big doors behind him. Roslyn sighed with relief and let herself ease up where she sat, bloody and beaten. Her arms felt heavy at her sides and she just wanted to lay down for a while. The blood loss made her dizzy and tired, but she knew if she fell asleep, she may not ever wake up again.

Loud, angry voices were heard in the next room followed by several gunshots. There was a long silence before the doors unlocked and slowly slid open. Roslyn was close to dozing off, and the last thing she saw was Joseph running up to her.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun shone through the closed blinds and disturbed Roslyn where she slept. Her eyes opened, panicked, and she shot up from the bed with confusion. She was back at her house, in her bedroom.

In the other room, the shuffling of soft paws could be heard running across the room to her bedroom door. The door was opened and all the puppies came rushing into the room, trying to jump up onto the bed. Joseph entered with a smirk on his face. He stood leaned against the door frame, watching his former collegue cuddle the small pups.

She looked up at him and smiled, "Thank you for finding me. I didn't expect you to do that for me."

He responded with a small nod and took a seat on the edge of the bed. He tilted his head at her, examining her bandaged shoulder. Blood had leaked through the cloth and had stained her sheets.

Running her fingers over the wound, she winced, "It doesn't hurt too bad. Thanks for patching me up." Joseph shrugged lightly, resting his elbows on his thighs.

"I called Pierre, he is my contact, just before I was ambushed. He was trying to find information about your clients but was locked out. Someone figured out he was snooping around and shut him down. I owe him big time for that one." Roslyn sighed, "Whatever you're doing is drawing attention to yourself and the rest of the group. You're putting all of us at risk doing this, so I hope for your sake it's worth it.

Joseph pulled out a notepad from his jacket and began scribbling down words furiously. He almost shoved the notepad right into her face with an angry scowl. _They did this to me._ He pointed a finger at his wound.

Roslyn bit her cheek, "I know, but you can't go into a frenzy and start killing all your clients. The damn FBI are already onto you and if they find out who you are, they'll start looking for the others as well, including me." She was becoming annoyed by the fact that he was willing to risk everything in a matter of days and not even slowing down to think for a moment.

His eyes softened and he ripped the page off and wrote two new words. He handed her the notepad and she read it to quietly for herself, "I'm sorry." A silence formed between them as she glanced at the words and Joseph. "If they find out who I am I will never be able to have a normal life again. I'll be locked up 'till I die!" She snapped, handing the pad back and stomped out of the room.

Not knowing how much blood she had lost, her vision blackened and she fell down on the floor, breath caught in her throat. Sitting on her knees, she tried heaving herself up again. Tears formed on her tired face in frustration as pain shot through her shoulder.

Joseph stalked into the kitchen, hesitant on wether or not to comfort her. He had already done so much harm to her that he didn't know if he would only make it worse or not.

"You're an asshole, you know that right? A selfish asshole." Roslyn's voice was cracking up and her sobs were loud. He ignored her words, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her into a soft hug. She was right, he was an asshole, he hadn't thought about the consequences. Resting his head in the crook of her neck, he murmured a croaked sorry. Roslyn couldn't help but smile. Turning around to meet his eyes, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

A smug smile formed on his face and he kissed her ravishingly, then soft and gentle. Before, they couldn't do this. It was the rules. Don't fool around with your colleagues, but now they were out of the game.

"When I left," she started, her voice unsure of her own words that left her lips. "Did you ever think of me?" she finished, closing her eyes hard, her jaw tightening with worry.

Though it was painful to speak, he said, "Of course I did. I loved you. I still love you."


	4. Chapter 4

**I am an extremely fluffy and romantic person so I love writing cheesy romance. I will also try to write some smut later ;))**

 **I am also very tired and tbh I just wanted someone to hold me but eh I have no one so I wrote this instead. I am a very emotional person you know.**

Roslyn woke up beside Giuseppe who was snoring softly with his arm around her shoulder, her head resting on his bare chest.

Roslyn snuggled closer to him, reaching for his free hand, twirling their fingers together. She breathed in his scent of cigarettes and gunpowder, feeling safe again. It was a feeling she cherished, because her life had been dangerous since she began walking on her own two legs.

Her mother researched angelology in France and was killed when a cave gave in and buried her and three other researchers beneath the earth while her father was dead a week before her birth. When she was 19 she began killing for money and a year after that she had joined an organized group of contract killers. You didn't need influence in the bad business side, or fame - you just needed a weapon and the skill to kill. When she first met Giuseppe he was quiet, only talked with his gun, but after a year she came through to him and he began talking to her, even protecting her. She felt compelled to help him no matter what, and she couldn't deny her love for him either.

Giuseppe opened his eyes, blinking several times before sitting up in the bed. He smiled when he looked at Roslyn, kissing her forehead before sitting on the edge of the bed as he searched for his clothes.

"Be careful." Roslyn's voice was stern and filled with worry. She propped herself up on her elbow, letting her hurt side become free of weight to release some of the pain. "I mean it. Don't do anything stupid. Do it fast and get the hell out of there. I don't want to lose you." She sat beside him on the bed, leaning her head against him.

5 hours later

Roslyn was anxiously waiting for him to call. She held her phone in her hand, biting her tongue while she waited. A moment later the phone started to vibrate. The caller ID said P. She picked up, a little irritated, "It's not a good time now, Pierre."

"Not a good time? They know about him. They're coming for him now." Pierre almost shouted into the phone, hanging up as soon as he spoke the sentence.

Roslyn panicked, texting Giuseppe, "Get out. They know." She sat on the kitchen chair, head in her hands for an hour before the front door opened. She quickly grabbed her Beretta, pointing it at the hallway. When Giuseppe appeared from the shadows she almost threw away the gun onto the kitchen counter and ran straight into his arms. "I'm overreacting, I know. It's been much more worse before, but you know what?" She looked into his eyes, on the verge of tears, "I'm worried, because I love you. I've always loved you, but I wouldn't admit it." She threw her arms around him again, his hands resting on her back, pulling her closer. She was trembling with fear and sadness and closed her eyes as hard as she could. She didn't want to lose him. She didn't want to lose anyone ever again.


	5. Chapter 5

**A friendly note: I have never studied French, so I just used google translate. Any french people reading this: please correct me if I made it wrong.**

Roslyn laid out her guns on the clean counter, reloading all four of them. She holstered to of them behind the inside of her leather jacket so they were resting on the sides of her abdomen. The other two she put in her bag which was filled with cases of ammunition and explosives.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, walking to a black SUV, seating herself in the backseat. "The plane is waiting for us, three miles out of town, then it takes 4 hours to land in Paris. Pierre will be waiting for us there, hopefully alive." She stated, handing Giuseppe a passport. "I'm running out of favors, so please for the love of god, don't do anything else." She sighed, leaning against the window as the driver sped of. She took one last glance at her house before it disappeared from her line of sight and trees came into view instead.

When they reached the private jet, a french man greeted both of them, " _Bonne dame du soir Roslyn. Rentrer à la maison en France? Pierre se vante de vous depuis que vous avez déménagé._ " Good evening lady Roslyn. Going home to France? Pierre has been bragging about you ever since you moved away.

Roslyn smiled widely at him, " _L'oncle André, il est si bon de vous revoir. Comment va votre femme? Est-ce qu'elle peint encore ces belles peintures à l'aquarelle?_ "Uncle André, it is so good to see you again. How is your wife? Is she still painting those beautiful watercolor paintings?

André glanced suspiciously at Giuseppe before answering, " _Ma femme ne est bien, Merci. Venez, laissez-nous parler l'avion. Vous devez me dire à propos de l'homme qui vous accompagne._ "My wife is well, thank you. Come, let us talk on the plane. You must tell me about the man who is accompanying you.

She nodded politely, heading towards the plane with André leading them. Giuseppe followed her like a lost puppy as he was surrounded by only french-speaking armed men. He glared at all of them, his hand always brushing against Roslyn's like a safety measure as they headed inside.

Once seated, André immediately began gossiping about his associates and what scandalous things they had done. Sometimes Roslyn wondered if his wife was actually meant to be a man, and André a woman the way he rants on about fashion and society while his wife preferred to take beer and watch sports.

"Yes I understand, her shoes did not match with the shirt she wore." Roslyn laughed, trying to get André to talk about something else.

"Do you know anyone who wears it like that? No?" André said with a heavy french accent, taking a sip from the glass of whiskey he had poured up. "Anyway, who is that man with you?" He pointed indiscreetly at Giuseppe who had laid down on one of the couches and was currently reading a book titled Decamerone.

" _Il est un de mes amis._ Why are you so curious about him?" Roslyn crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. She didn't exactly want to spill the secret about them just yet, when they had not even arrived in France.

André smiled proudly and said, "I see the way you look at him. How you look for him when he isn't beside you. You're worried about him, _parce que vous l'aimes_. The question is, _Sait-il que tu l'aimes?_ "

"You read me too easy, uncle. Yes he knows. Love is not easily found in the world we live in, so I cherish it greatly." Roslyn blushed lightly, trying to escape the conversation by looking out the window. The clouds seemed as light as cotton and looked as soft as it too.

"You do well to keep it. He seems like a man who will take care of you. You deserve that more than anyone else." André downed the last of his whiskey, daydreaming away.

 **Another friendly note: I am so sorry for any weird french in this chapter, because I DO NOT study it, or have ever thought about learning it, but now I was like, "she's totally gonna be from France originally"**


	6. Why I Made My Decisions (Drabble)

**_A short drabble about Roslyn and her thoughts._**

 _"I never even knew what to do."_

I grew up with a gun in my hand and blood on my hands. I have lived my life with a mask to hide what I was - _who I am_. I never believed I would settle down somewhere and have a family. I was too scared to think that it could be possible, that there was the slightest chance I had wasted that life. Even after I quit doing those jobs, I never reached out to the world - maybe I couldn't. I never talked to anyone I didn't know from before and it only pulled me back to the life I had left behind me. To forget my past was to burn a piece of myself and I wasn't ready to do that.

 _"Now I miss you more than I can take and I will surely break."_

I was never alone. I always had people around me who cared. People whom society would call killers and mobsters. Lowlife. _Scum_. We were one big, crazy family. I traveled around the world with them, saw the heights of every mountain and saw every sea. In all the bad, there was something for me there. Something to keep on living for.

I forgot why I became a hitman. Did I want to live on the risky side of life? Was it the easy money? Or was it just for the thrill of the kill? I _did_ enjoy seeing the last breath leave their bodies, but it wasn't because of that. It was something else, something from my childhood that brought me to the point where I could pick up a gun without a second thought and just shoot someone. I vividly remember the first one I killed. It was a man in his late forties, possibly married with kids - I didn't know, nor did I care. He was harassing a woman on the street and no one was around. I had stood in an alley, watching him from across the street. I walked over to him, reached for my gun and shot him in the head. I killed him because he made me angry. I killed him when he looked me straight in the eyes. I killed him without remorse. He was just another upper-class scumbag believing he was superior to the rest of us. And it felt good. I felt powerful.

 _"Cherish every single day when fortune is showing you the way."_

The thing that made me leave - it was something that has been following me since my birth. The shadows I saw in the corner of my eyes began _walking_ in front of me. No one saw them except for me. No one seemed to acknowledge them except _me_. I became paranoid, looking behind my shoulder too often. It made my job even more dangerous. It came to the point where I just wanted to close my eyes and never open them again because I knew _they_ would be there. I knew they would be watching me, smirking, giggling, breathing down my neck.

So I left, saying my goodbyes to my friends. I began drinking to keep them away. The sooner I passed out, the better. A headache next day made them stay in the corner of my eyes, it kept them quiet for a few hours, but when they started giggling and laughing behind my back I couldn't take it anymore. That night I tied weights to my ankles and jumped in the lake. Someone saw me, managed to save me and bring me to the hospital. I didn't feel the same after that, but the shadows disappeared. The one who saved me - his name was Pierre - he became my best friend. His family became _my_ family. They were french, like my mother.

 _It was the happiest time of my life._


	7. Chapter 6

As they landed in Paris, Pierre came to greet Roslyn. She threw her arms around him and smiled with joy, "Pierre it's so good to see you. I'm sorry for all the trouble I gave you."

"Pas de souci, I'm always willing to help you Ros, you know that." He smiled wide and took her luggage. "We better get moving, you never know who might be watching."

Roslyn nodded, following him to his car with Giuseppe trailing a bit behind. Roslyn breathed out a sigh of relief as she seated herself in the car and it began driving. She honestly never thought they would come so far, with FBI being involved. They drove to André's house which was fairly big considering it was in the center of Paris.

As soon as she entered the house, André's wife - Camille, greeted her with a tight hug and a big smile, "Ça me fait plaisir de te revoir!"

"Ma chère tante! It is so good to see you again, I only wish it had been under different circumstances." Roslyn said with a troubling smile.

"Now dear, don't dwell on that. It has been so many years since you last visited me, I need to hear what you have been up to." Despite a few wrinkles, Camille didn't look more than 40 years old though she was closing in on 55 years old.

Roslyn followed her into the big living room. Camille had set down a tray of tea and biscuits which Roslyn gladly accepted.

Nothing had changed since she had last been there, Roslyn noticed. Only that there were a few new paintings. She had lived in this house for four years, and it had been the best time of her life. They had treated her like their own daughter. They had bought her gifts on her birthday, bought her seemingly random small presents at times when she had been extra helpful, they had even bought her her first car.

"So.." Camille started saying once she sat down opposite of me, "Are you in trouble?" Her eyes were glazed with worry.

Roslyn looked down to her hands and smiled sadly, "No, _ne t'inquiète pas._ It is my friend that is in trouble. He's too stubborn for his own good and made a mistake." She didn't want to talk about the details too much, because it could make Camille a target of both the FBI and other bad people. Camille was perfectly capable of handling herself, but Roslyn would never forgive herself if something happened to her.

"He is not american, no?" Camille asked as she took a sip of her tea.

"No." Roslyn began as she took a biscuit from the plate, "He's italian." She devoured it in a couple of seconds, making Camille smile. "How did you know that?"

"Pierre might have told me some details.."

Roslyn rolled her eyes. _Of course he had_.  
She finished her tea and ate one more biscuit, "Veuillez m'excuser, I need to see the streets of Paris again." Roslyn smiled and stood up, walking over to the hall. She could see that Pierre and Giuseppe were chatting quietly outside with hurried words. Closing the door, the two of them looked up at her from where she stood on the porch.

Pierre was glaring at her with an angry expression. She raised a brow. "T'es folle! He is not even family and you risk your life for him?! Je tiens à toi, I do not want you to regret this." He was shouting at her, grabbing her wrist forcefully.

"Stop, Pierre. This isn't like you.." She tried yanking her wrist from his grip, but it only tightened. He began dragging her into the house again, but Giuseppe dragged him away from her and threw him down onto the ground. Guiseppe was _very_ angry. He brought out his gun and pointed it to Pierre's forehead. Roslyn gasped, "Don't! He'll calm down soon, just.. let's go for a while." She tugged at Giu's arm, pleading him to leave Pierre alone.

"If he doesn't kill me," Pierre said, "I will kill him."


End file.
